Protecting Vash
by cmr2014
Summary: Knives intends to get his revenge. Target: Vash.


DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Protecting Vash**

They were very careful about what Knives had access to. The bed was bolted to the floor, and he was chained to the bed, allowed just a few feet of motion.

Much to Meryl's chagrin, Vash had apologized profusely as he explained that this was necessary. Knives had scowled and said nothing. He glared at Meryl. He glared more at Vash.

His brother. His _traitor_ brother, choosing a lower species over his own kind. The woman he was with wasn't even as tall as them! The least Vash could have done was chosen the big woman. Her height was at least comparable to theirs.

Knives kept expecting the short one to burst out, "Oompa-loompa, doopity-do!"

He also favored the big one because she was not as careful as Vash and his woman. She hadn't noticed that he'd broken a tine off the fork he'd eaten his dinner with. She'd taken the fork without looking at it. Her laxness was his advantage. Perhaps he would kill her last, as a thank-you.

The lock on the chains was a simple mechanism, easily sprung by the fork tine. When it clicked open, he didn't hear freedom; rather, he heard the sound of his impending revenge.

Vash had been with the humans for too long. He'd picked up their arrogance that one security measure meant you didn't need two. They thought with him secured by the chains, they didn't need to lock the door.

He would soon make them realize that arrogance was a divine right that only he could properly claim.

The door opened silently. Another folly of these humans. It would have been better to make this door squeak, so they would hear it when he escaped. Instead, it was well-oiled in accordance with their sound maintenance. No right-thinking being would put the luxury of silence over security. They reveled in having thought out his captivity, when they hadn't thought at all!

Knives padded his way down to the kitchen, choosing his steps carefully. He placed the weight of each foot gently, testing before putting the full weight down. Vash was a higher being; perhaps he would have had the foresight to place booby traps. Or not; Knives made it safely to the kitchen.

Tch. His brother had gone soft. He could have helped Knives create a new world, made this planet an Eden for plants. But no, Vash chose to be poisoned by the foolish beliefs of Rem. He chose to be further poisoned by that hair-triggered short woman. Even her weapons were short. At least the big one had a weapon he could almost respect.

Knives found the drawer he was looking for. He took out the biggest, sharpest knife he could find. Began to return upstairs, knife in hand.

They had thought they were secure. Even Vash thought he was completely disarmed without the Angel Arm. They thought Knives was no longer dangerous.

Knives was _always_ dangerous!

And now Vash would pay for his treachery.

Knives felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of his brother with his throat cut, brain scrambled by a knife shoved through his eye. Vash could have had it all.

The sadness was quickly banished. Vash had made his choice. Once a choice was made, you were locked on your path.

_Vash must die!_

Knives turned the knob on the door to Vash and Meryl's room. Like his own door, it opened silently. He padded in, standing at the foot of the bed. A few more feet, and the traitor would meet his end…

_Click._ Knives recognized the sound of a gun being cocked, recognized the cold feel of metal as it was screwed into his temple.

The sound was softer than a regular gun, the feel of the barrel smaller. This was a derringer.

A heartbeat later, there was a second derringer against his temple.

"Drop the knife." It was the short woman's voice, determined and hard.

Knives' arrogance did not extend to delusion. He was defeated this time, but there would be other opportunities. He dropped the knife, and it clattered as it hit the floor.

"Vash never would," Meryl said. "He wants to see you change. So even though I loathe you for all the suffering you've caused him, I'm willing to give you a chance. I'm willing to walk the path with him."

One derringer migrated from his temple until it was pressed directly into his eye, sending a kaleidoscope of colors through his vision. He stood still and tolerated it, refusing to give this lesser being any satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"Out of respect for Vash," she continued, "I will let you live this one time. _BUT_ – if you _ever_ try to hurt my husband again, I will pull the trigger. I'll put you down without a second thought. Do you understand?"

Knives nodded. He understood that he had underestimated her. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Go back to bed," she ordered. She marched him back to his room, and as he sat on his bed, he heard something heavy moving against the door.

He would have to adjust his plans for the future to account for the short one.

When Meryl returned to their room, Vash uncocked his revolver and laid it back down. He'd heard Knives open the door and come awake, hand snatching up the gun from its holster on the floor right by the bed. He'd been afraid he might have to do whatever it took to protect Meryl.

Instead, she had protected him.

As she slid back into bed, he rolled over and wrapped his arms around her, grateful that Meryl Stryfe was his wife.


End file.
